


A bit like family, a lot like love

by bryonyashley



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Gaby ships it, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Stubborn Illya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryonyashley/pseuds/bryonyashley
Summary: Illya wants out.  No wait, Illya wants Napoleon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my dear [patapera](http://patapera.tumblr.com/) for beta reading my fic and patiently listen to me babbling about two idiots in love. ♥

~ ~ ~ 

They are back in Italy, after two months spent in Istanbul. During the mission, Gaby has escaped a kidnapping attempt and Solo almost got killed in the Hamam. 

Gaby will never be able to erase _that image_ from her mind. Illya picking Solo up in his arms and carrying him to the rescue van, almost naked, bruised and unconscious, only 2 weeks ago. And how Illya had looked vulnerable, holding Napoleon's hand at his hospital bed, waiting for him to wake up, Gaby looking unnoticed through the square glass of the hospital door. 

Luckily the mission was over and successful, no brain injuries for Solo. They were in a safe house, a little old Villa nearby Rome, surrounded by tall trees and pittoresque little shops. A nice place to heal wounds of any kind.

"How about i make dinner for you, tonight? Italian food, of course." exclaim Solo, an unfathomable smile on his face, as if the leg sprain and the bruises didn't hurt at all and - no, I’m not using a walking stick, thank you very much. 

Gaby declines. "I need to go shopping and I have to do a very important phone call." 

"Does Waverly know...?" mumbles Napoleon looking at her knowingly. 

Gaby frowns at him and winks at a puzzled Illya before disappearing behind the door.

So it's just the two of them sitting at the elegant round table in the dining room, between a fork of Carbonara spaghetti and a glass of wine "de li Castelli", Napoleon asks of art - Have you ever been at the Hermitage, Peril? - and talks about being a soldier and says cryptic things like “Life is slipping by and you never know what's going to happen tomorrow." 

Illya nods, here and there, a bit lost. _What about that ring you wear on the little finger. Who gave it to you? Is it an old lover's gift? How much this person means to you?_ Illya wants to ask, but stays silent. The KGB would have killed him just for having _such thoughts_ over another man. _As if it matters now_ …

"Are you ok, Peril?" says Napoleon, gazing at him intently "You are not listening…. Is my brilliant conversation a bit too much for you to handle?" he grins.

"I'm going to ask to be relocated." Illya blurts out, his eyes shifting away guiltily. _There, it's done._

Napoleon rises to his feet. "I see." is his only reply and if there's a look of panic in his eyes Illya does not notice as it is immediately replaced by a mask of nonchalanche. He starts to clear the table, limping slightly as he walks to the kitchen placing the dishes into the sink. He looks out the window and tries to imagine his days without Illya’s probing blue eyes. He takes a sharp intake of breath. _No._ He had not known back then, during the Vinciguerra mission, what he wanted or how to deal with this _need_ to be there for Illya, knowing they would depart soon for different places of the world. But now they are a team, things have shifted between them in Istanbul and now _he knows_ , he knows what he wants, and the ache for it is palpable. 

Illya didn't really know what kind of reaction to expect from Napoleon at the news of him leaving, but this silence... it hurts. _Глупый._ The cool air from the open balcony made him snap out of his thinking. "I'll help you. “ he says eventually, standing up, taking their empty glasses and joining Napoleon in the kitchen. _So this is how it all ends._

Napoleon turns around slowly facing him. "I don’t need your help." His voice icy cold, his eyes hard on Illya. 

"Then I better go." murmurs Illya, stubbornly pushing down the emotions threatening to take over his mind, his hand start to twitch badly while he places the glasses over the sink. 

"Coward." Napoleon says suddenly, low voice, then he is pushing Illya, shoving him back against the cupboard, hand on his chest, their faces mere inches apart. He can feel Illya's heart beating hard, his breath is laboured and he is expecting for him to react, to punch him or something else but Illya just stands there almost defeated, watching him with hungry eyes, as if waiting for something. 

"Tell me you don’t care for me as I do for you." murmurs Napoleon, holding Illya’s penetrating gaze. 

Words are hovering over Illya's lips, Napoleon can tell, words that never seems to find a voice to speak them. He shakes his head and sighs. "You are a fool if you think i will let you go, Peril." he adds softly, hand reaching Illya's neck to pull him down to meet his lips. 

Illya complies - _yes yes_ \- and wraps his arms around Napoleon, deepening the kiss, pulling him against his body, groaning at the feeling of him responding greedily. _This._ This yearning for Napoleon as if the man was a piece of himself he needed in order to be complete…it scared him. 

"Were you waiting for permission?" teases Napoleon, when they part, lips swollen. "Is that _your thing_ , Peril?" he says, mouthing Illya’s neck. _Or you wanted to be claimed?_

Illya shoves him back to the sink counter, pushing his thigh against him. Napoleon hold back a hiss of pain for he hurt his leg. But then Illya is unbuttoning his shirt, grazing his chest and then his hand - _oh oh_ \- "I don’t need permission for something that's mine." growls Illya, kissing him thoroughly. 

"Guys, look what i found!" just then Gaby suddenly burst into the dining room, arms full of shopping bags. She sees Illya in the kitchen, standing with his back to her, then Napoleon just peeks out from behind him and raise his eyebrows at Gaby with a suggestive smirk. 

"Oh great! “she says, realizing what’s happening, and trying to sound annoyed. _At least!_ "I'll leave you to it! And for the record, I will take the last chamber in the hallway. Goodnight and sweet dreams." She adds and leaves the room with a silly smile on his face. 

Illya, who has not moved since, very unexpectedly lets out a long breathy laugh. He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. It is a strange and comforting feeling to be able to let go, finally. _Finally._

"Peril?" says Napoleon, bemused. 

"Let’s go Cowboy." says Illya then takes Napoleon’s hand, interlacing their fingers and dragging him towards the first bedroom. Napoleon follows silently with a very smug face. 

Much later, Illya is awake watching the sunrise peeking through the window while Napoleon snores besides him, sprawled in the bed, hair wild and looking strangely young. He can hear a radio playing downstairs and Gaby singing, probably making breakfast. He smiles to himself and suddenly a realization hits him. He is _safe_. Gaby and Napoleon, they make him feel safe. A bit like family, a lot like love. 


End file.
